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Showing posts with label Excerpt Reveal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Excerpt Reveal. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 20, 2019

Read online. When August Ends by Penelope Ward

Read the first two chapters of When August Ends by Penelope Ward.  Look for my book review over the next few days.  When August Ends had the perfect amount of sweet and heat that made my heart skip an emotional beat.

Model Joseph Cannata Book Cover

WHEN AUGUST ENDS by Penelope Ward

A Standalone Contemporary Romance Novel
Release date: February 25, 2019

Cover Information:
Cover Designer: Letitia Hasser, RBA Designs
Cover Model: Joseph Cannata
Cover Photography: Adam Zivo

New York Times, USA Today, and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author Penelope Ward 
EXCERPT: 
Noah stood up and walked off the porch to put his cigar out on the cement. When he returned, he remained standing across from me. I was reminded of just how tall he was as he towered over me. A breeze blew his scent—a mix of cigar and cologne—in my direction. The same smell saturated the shirt I was wearing. I could’ve breathed it in all night. His nearness was doing things to my body I hadn’t ever felt.
Noah looked around. “You mentioned some stuff around here needs to be repaired. What specifically?”
I blew out a breath. Even thinking about it was exhausting. “So much. I’d have to make a list.”
“Why don’t you do that? Make a list. I’m pretty good with my hands. I’ll see if there’s anything I can help with while I’m here.”
He’d lost me at pretty good with my hands. My imagination was running wild. Shit. I imagined those hands doing a lot of things—mostly to me. 
“I can’t let you do that.”
“You’d be stupid not to take me up on it. I came for a change of pace, but the truth is, too much quiet isn’t good. I like to keep busy.”
Biting my bottom lip, I shook my head. “I don’t know…”
“Make the list,” he insisted.
Noah was right. It would be dumb not to take him up on his offer. It wasn’t like there was anyone else knocking down our door to help. 
I tilted my head. “What would be in it for you?”
His expression turned dark. “People don’t always have to have ulterior motives.”
Suddenly feeling bold, I said, “I thought maybe you would want me to go out with you in exchange.” 
Did you hear that? It was a record screeching.
I admit, that was ballsy, but being around him brought out my flirtatious side. Maybe his cologne and cigar smoke were going to my head. 
“You’re joking, right?”
Okay. I shouldn’t have asked.
“Actually, I—”
“I’m practically old enough to be your father.”
Really? That’s how he saw me? I knew he was older than me…but he didn’t seem that old. No way. I’d pegged him as early thirties, though I truly had no idea how old he was.
I shook my head. “No, you’re not. That’s a lie. An older brother, maybe. How old are you?”
Instead of answering, he took two steps forward. “Let me make something clear.”
“Okay…”
“I was not insinuating anything by offering to help. And I will not be asking you out, propositioning you, or going anywhere near you, for that matter. We clear on that?”
Okay, then.
I swallowed. Disappointment washed over me as I cleared my throat. “Yes.”
“Good.” He made his way toward the door, turning around one last time. “You’d better go. It was nice chatting. Get me the list tomorrow.”
He disappeared into the house, leaving me on the porch to wallow in his lingering smell and feeling like a complete and utter idiot.
LINKS TO When August Ends:

Download the FIRST TWO Chapters Here  https://dl.bookfunnel.com/7atulhxa6j

Amazon Print  https://amzn.to/2EjFUw1 
Google Play  http://bit.ly/2BCw3Qc  
Goodreads  http://bit.ly/2SL1z9e 

Sign up to be alerted when it goes live on Amazon here: http://bit.ly/2Eg5DFw 
**No Amazon e-book preorder. Will go live on/around release day.

Synopsis:

What do you do when a sexy, older man moves into your family’s summer rental?

Well, apparently, you make a fool of yourself—over and over. Things didn’t exactly get off on the right foot with Noah Cavallari. Our first encounter was embarrassing, to say the least.

But despite that, I found myself waking up every day with a newfound energy. Nothing exciting ever happened on the lake—not until Noah moved into the small boathouse on our property. He’d booked it for the entire summer…and I was still trying to figure out why.

When my mother became ill, I inherited the responsibility of making sure our guests were well taken care of. I should have been in college. Instead, I was living my best life…as a maid.

Dark, handsome, and mysterious, everything about Noah screamed forbidden. 

I knew he was just passing through town for the summer.

I knew he was probably too old for me.

Yet, I was drawn to him.

Not to mention, he tried to save my life when he mistakenly thought I was drowning.

I wanted him and made no secret of it.

His own attempts to warn me away soon gave way to late-night moonlight chats by the lake. We were slowly easing into a friendship that was gearing up to explode into something I might not recover from. 

Because he’s leaving at the end of the summer.

And I have no idea what I’ll do when August ends.


AUTHOR BIO:
Penelope Ward

Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author of contemporary romance.
She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son, and beautiful daughter with autism. 

With over one-point-five million books sold, she is a twenty-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over twenty novels. 

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS: 

Facebook

Facebook Private Fan Group:

Instagram
@penelopewardauthor 

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Friday, November 2, 2018

READ AN EXCERPT FROM HATE NOTES by Vi Keeland & Penelope Ward

Read an excerpt from Hate Notes by Vi Keeland & Penelope Ward!  This November 6th release needs to be your next one-click! Pre-order available and FREE on Kindle Unlimited! 

Please Note: Because Hate Notes is published by Montlake Romance, a division of Amazon, the ebook and paperback will only be available on Amazon. If you are an Amazon Prime or Kindle Unlimited member, you should NOT pre-order the eBook. The Hate Notes ebook will be free for both Prime and KU members on release day!


Kindle Crack Book Reviews Blog

Photo/Cover Details: 
Photo Credit:  Tijana Vukovic
Model: Dusan Susnjar

PURCHASE LINKS
Add to Goodreads  http://smarturl.it/xys920
Amazon ebook https://amzn.to/2DiOcFm
Amazon Print (Currently on sale!)  https://amzn.to/2RvVU1B
Amazon Audio  https://amzn.to/2yMMnfT
Amazon print UK (Currently on sale) http://hyperurl.co/32k3q7

Sign up for Penelope & Vi’s mailing list now and be the first one notified when it goes live!    https://www.subscribepage.com/Vi&Penelope

A standalone romance novel published by Montlake Romance
New York Times Bestselling Authors Vi Keeland & Penelope Ward
Release date: Tuesday, November 6, 2018

SYNOPSIS
It all started with a mysterious blue note sewn into a wedding dress. 

Something blue. 

I’d gone to sell my own unworn bridal gown at a vintage clothing store. That’s when I found another bride’s “something old.” 

Stitched into the lining of a fabulously feathered design was the loveliest message I’d ever read: Thank you for making all of my dreams come true. 

The name embossed on the blue stationery: Reed Eastwood, obviously the most romantic man who ever lived. I also discovered he’s the most gorgeous. If only my true-love fantasies had stopped there. Because I’ve since found out something else about Mr. Starry-Eyed. 

He’s arrogant, cynical, and demanding. I should know. Thanks to a twist of fate, he’s my new boss. But that’s not going to stop me from discovering the story behind his last love letter. A love letter that did not result in a happily ever after. 

But that story is nothing compared to the one unfolding between us. It’s getting hotter, sweeter, and more surprising than anything I could have imagined. 

Something new. 

But I have no idea how this one is going to end . . .




Kindle Crack Book Reviews Blog
Hate Notes Excerpt:
Grabbing my laptop, I searched my history and called up the last website I’d visited.
Eastwood Properties is one of the largest independent brokerage firms in the world. We connect the most prestigious and exclusive properties with qualified buyers, assuring the utmost privacy for both parties. Whether you’re in the market for a luxury New York City penthouse with a view of the park, a waterfront Hampton estate, or an enchanting chateau escape in the mountains, or you’re ready for your own private island, Eastwood is where your dreams begin.
There was a link to search properties, so I typed in the name of the place the woman had mentioned in the voice mail: Millennium Tower. Sure enough, the penthouse popped up for sale. For only twelve million dollars, I could own an apartment on Columbus Avenue with sweeping views of Central Park. Let me write you a check.
After drooling through a video and two dozen photos, I clicked on the button to make an appointment to view the property. An application popped up, the top of which read: For the privacy and safety of our sellers, all prospective buyers are required to complete an application to view properties. Only buyers that meet our stringent prequalification criteria will be contacted.
I snorted. Great prequalification criteria you have there, Eastwood. I wasn’t sure I had enough money to take the train uptown to get to that swanky place, much less buy it. God knows what I’d written that had qualified me.
I closed the website and was just about to shut my laptop and go back to bed again when I decided to take one more peek at Mr. Romantic on Facebook.
God, he was gorgeous.


What if . . .
I shouldn’t.
No good ever came out of ideas formulated while drunk.
I couldn’t.
But . . .
That face . . .
And that note.
So romantic. So beautiful.
Plus . . . I’d never seen the inside of a twelve-million-dollar penthouse.
I really shouldn’t.
Then again . . . I’d spent the last two years doing everything I should do. And where had that gotten me?
Right here. It’d gotten me right damn here—hungover and unemployed, sitting in this crappy apartment. Maybe it was time I did the things I shouldn’t be doing for a change. I picked up my phone and let my finger hover over the “Call Back” button for a while.
Screw it.
No one would ever know. It could be fun—getting all dressed up and playing the part of a rich Upper West Sider while satisfying my curiosity about the man. What harm was there?
None that I could think of. Still, you know what they say about curiosity . . .
I pressed “Call Back.”

“Hi. This is Charlotte Darling calling to confirm an appointment with Reed Eastwood . . .”
Thursday, October 4, 2018

EXCERPT & GIVEAWAY: The Lovers by Fiona Cole


Check out an excerpt from The Lovers, part of the Cards of Love Collection by Fiona Cole. The Lovers is an insanely sexy, MMF standalone romance.  Also enter for a chance to win an arc!!! 

Kindle Crack Book Reviews Blog

Release Date: October 25, 2018
Cover Design: Lori Jackson Design

Synopsis

I loved him first.
Jake was my best friend in college-my very straight best friend, until one night he was more. He may have run after what happened between us, but I never forgot him.
When fate puts us in the same place, five years later, he has a fiance by his side. Carina is beautiful, driven, and draws my attention almost as much as he still does.
A game of truth or dare leads to a wild night and a relationship that has our feelings growing into something bigger than any of us intended.
But what happens when our feelings deepen? Can I handle being with two people?
If it means I can have him, I’ll love them both.

Goodreads
http://bit.ly/2xUxuYi


Excerpt

Carina turned me with an eyebrow raised, her eyes heated with ideas I was eager to hear about later. “I want to play.”
“Play what?” I asked.
“Truth or dare. Come on, ask me something.”
“Carina,” I warned. This dinner felt like a small flame making me sweat and she wanted me to throw gasoline on it.
“Come on.”
“Fine. Truth: are you going to have more wine tonight?”
She gave me a deadpanned stare. “All signs point to yes.” She sighed and turned to Jackson. “You’re right, he lives on the wild side.”
Jackson laughed, and it reached across the table and gripped me, yanking me closer to saying fuck it. Add in the three glasses of bourbon and admitting my attraction to him didn’t seem so far-fetched.
“Okay, I’ll ask you a truth,” Jackson said to Carina. “Have you ever kissed a girl? If so, how did it end?”
I already knew the answer to this question, but I didn’t know all the details.
The old excitement of playing the game and the thrill of pushing the limits started pumping through me. Lingering explosion or not, old habits die hard.
Carina tipped back her glass of wine and emptied it. She carefully set it down and folded her hands on the table, dragging out the suspense. “I have,” she finally said. “And it ended with her giving me a kiss in return. On my pussy.”
“Hell, yes,” Jackson said, leaning back and reaching under the table, making it obvious he was adjusting his cock. Carina’s eyes dropped to the motion, but she quickly looked away, smiling. The idea of Carina on her back with a girl between her legs had all the blood dropping to between my legs.
When she turned to look at me there was a small hesitation like she wasn’t sure how I’d receive it. So, I let her see me adjust my pants as well and mouthed later. Later we’d let that play out between us and fuel our fucking.
“Alright, Carina, now a dare,” Jackson said out of turn. Were we taking turns? I didn’t know, and I was beginning not to care.
“Okay. I’m ready.”
“I dare you to go make Jake harder than he already is and kiss him.”
Jackson stared at me, the challenge in his eyes to put a halt to the game. Instead, I pushed my chair back and patted my leg, gesturing for Carina to take a seat on my lap. The scrape of her chair pushing back on the hardwood was the only sound in the room. She stepped forward and sat her soft ass against my aching cock, twisting her body to wrap her arms around my neck.
If Jackson wanted a show, I’d give him a show. I dug my hand into Carina’s loose hair and tugged her down to me, dropping my other hand to grip her ass. I latched on to her mouth and pushed my tongue inside to tangle with hers. She tasted like wine and sweet intoxication. Her moan vibrated against my lips and I pushed my hips up, letting her really feel how hard she made me.
She pulled back and gave me a heated smile before standing and walking back to her seat. I looked back at Jackson preparing to find his confident look gone from his face. And it was.
But it had been replaced with a look that burned my skin. His brown eyes looked almost black from across the table. His chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths and my cock ached knowing I’d done that to him. Instead of deterring him, I’d only turned him on more.
Another inch closer to the edge.
Carina cleared her throat. “Jackson,” she said, bringing his attention to her. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
I was sure he was going to pick dare and I let out the breath I’d been holding in anticipation of what that dare would’ve been. I could handle a truth.
At least I thought I could until Carina’s question proved me wrong.
“I know you’re bisexual. So, what’s your preference? Girl or guy?”
“Guy.” No hesitation at all.
“Top or bottom?”
“Only one question per turn,” I said, not needing to know any of this.
“Top,” he answered anyway before letting his eyes slide to mine. “But I may let someone fuck me. They’d have to earn it though.”
“Whew, that’s hot.” Carina fanned her face, making Jackson laugh.
“Jake,” he said even though he’d already had a turn. “Truth or dare.”
There was no fucking way I was taking a dare from him. “Truth.”
His smile was slow and dangerous. I should’ve picked the dare. “You ever kissed a guy?”
My heart stopped beating and my stomach dropped. That motherfucker knew what he was doing and a big part of me wanted to stare him down and lie. But the competitive part, the part that had me stripping on a table in a crowded room had me tipping over the edge, my control a forgotten myth that existed before five seconds ago.
For the first time of the night, I returned Jackson’s cocky smile with one of my own. “Yeah.”


Giveaway
One of Five ARC's for Cards of Love: The Lovers
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Friday, September 14, 2018

EXCERPT REVEAL: Perversion by T.M. Frazier

Kindle Crack Book Reviews Blog

USA Today bestselling author of the King Series, T.M. Frazier, brings you an all new trilogy with an anti-hero you’re going to love to hate and a ballsy heroine with tricks up her sleeve.

PERVERSION, book one in the all-new Perversion Trilogy is coming September 25th and we have the first sneak peek for you! 

Synopsis 

Love is supposed to be magical.
Ours is suicidal.
The first time I met Emma Jean Parish,
she conned me into taking her p*ssy.
Her cat.
When she was sixteen,
she manipulated me into giving her
her very first kiss.
At eighteen she gave me everything.
She's a con artist.
I'm a criminal.
I use her.
She manipulates me.
The attraction between us is explosive.
When it detonates
we could both wind up dead.

PERVERSION IS BOOK ONE IN THE PERVERSION TRILOGY
BOOK TWO: POSSESSION
BOOK THREE: PERMISSION

Pre-order your copy of PERVERSION today! 

Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/perversionGR 

Excerpt: 

Emma Jean
When I was younger, I fell in love with magic. I learned every card trick there was from library books and unmasking magic TV specials. I used to put on shows for Gabby that included escaping from complicated knots and trick handcuffs. But what’s magic besides a sleight of hand? 
It’s a lie. 
And lying is what I’m damn good at. 
My ability to spin a tall tale or two lead to stealing wallets and conning people into taking stray pets for the thrill of it. Now, I’m using it to earn for Marco. The thrill is there, but it’s muted, hindered, lost under his pile of mounting threats. 
The inside of the casino smells like stale cigarettes, spilled beer, and burnt coffee. We’re not supposed to be in here. It’s Bedlam territory. But that’s also why it’s perfect. 
It isn’t like anyone would recognize us here. 
We’ve made friends with a few of the cocktail waitresses by giving them a small cut, and they don’t ask questions or ring any alarms when they see us working. I’ve also been straightening my hair over the last few years since my crazy curls stand out like a reflector on a dark highway. I’ve dyed it a few shades darker than my normal honey blonde to help blend in.  
Tonight is starting off well. Gabby and I are working a con we’ve run a few times before. 
Gabby walks away, her long dark hair swooshing behind her. She gives me a nod as she passes me by on the slot machine I’m pretending to play. She’s just faked losing an expensive engagement ring at another slot machine. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she frantically looked around for it, then loudly announced a thousand-dollar reward would be waiting at the casino cage for whoever returned it. 
She is flawless. She should be an actress. And in another life, she would be. 
But we don’t live in another life. 
We live in Lacking and belong to Los Muertos. 
Our lives are not our own. 
A few people casually look around the area, then return to their machines when they don’t find the ring Gabby was ranting about. They won’t either. Because it’s not there. 
Yet.  
It's go time. 
I strut over to the area Gabby just left and put a dollar in the machine. While the wheels spin, I pretend to pick up the dime store ring I already have in my hand. By the time the machine dings to tell me I’ve lost my dollar, I’m turning the ring over, inspecting it like I don’t have half a dozen more just like it in my drawer back at the apartment. 
“Would you look at that?” I mutter to myself loud enough so others around me can hear.  
A man in an Adidas jumpsuit with a potbelly taps me on the shoulder. “I’ll take that. I saw the woman who dropped it. I’ll go return it to her.” 
Liar. You just want the reward. 
“That’s so nice of you,” I say. I hold it out, about to drop it into his hand when I pull it back. “I bet there’s a reward for something this valuable.” I start to walk around the man. “I’ll take it up to management. Maybe, they know…” 
“Here,” the man says, holding up a hundred-dollar bill. “Take this. I’ll take it to her. I just…you know, as I said, I want to make sure it gets back to the right person.” 
You’re not even a good liar. 
Sometimes, it’s just too freaking easy. And this scam wasn’t even an Emma Jean and Gabby original. We saw it a long time ago in a movie starring Jennifer Love Hewitt. Doesn’t anyone else watch movies? 
I shrug and pass him the ring. Plucking the bill from his hand, I tuck it into my bra. “Thanks,” I say before quickly making my way toward the large glass front doors. It’s Thursday. Marco’s money is due in two days, and we’re short this week. 
Really short. 
I walk slowly and wave goodbye to the valets with a smile on my face. “Any luck, tonight?” One asks me. 
“I think so,” I answer with a smile. Once I’m down the sidewalk and out of view, I scramble to the side of the casino where I kick off my heels and change from the sequined dress I’d stolen from a dry-cleaner into a pair of cut-off shorts and my yellow Keds. 
Now, all I have to do is wait for Gabby.  
I don’t have to wait long. 
“Run!” Gabby yells, darting from the doors of the casino with two large men wearing tight black security t-shirts close behind. Running from security is terrifying enough, knowing that we’re running from members of the Bedlam Brotherhood kicks it up a notch. 
I grab my backpack and sling it across my shoulders. I move as fast as I can until I’m running right alongside her. We race through the gates, cross the street, narrowly avoiding being hit by two cars. We duck into a hole in a fence and run through one backyard after the other. 
“One of those cunt waitresses must have tipped them off!” Gabby says, through shallow breaths. She’s barefoot in a black mini-dress hiked up to her ass to give her long legs room to run. Her long thick hair is wrapped around her face, sticking to her mouth. 
We hit the sixth backyard. Without another word, we separate behind a clothesline. We’ve mapped out this escape plan a thousand times, but this is the first time we’ve ever had to use it. 
When I make it into the central part of town, to the Los Muertos/Bedlam border, I can no longer hear the shouts of the security guards. I lost them. 
Hopefully, Gabby did, too.
I use a tower of stacked-up wooden pallets on the sidewalk like a ladder to scale a concrete wall, then drop down into the alley.
I grow more panic-stricken the longer I wait for Gabby. I bite the inside of my lip, pacing back and forth along the high wall. The Bedlam Brotherhood runs the security at the casino. If they catch her and find out who she is? Or worse? Who her brother is? They'll... I shake the thought from my mind. She’ll be fine. 
She HAS to be fine. 
Please be okay, Gabby. Please. 
I’m trying to catch my breath and pull myself together when I hear a clink echo through the alley as if someone dropped some spare change, followed by the sound of something heavy dropping to the asphalt.
“Gabby?” I ask into the darkness. Thinking it’s her, relief washes over me like rain on a barren desert.  
My only answer is the flickering of a fluorescent light mounted high on the roof’s edge of the adjoining building. And the hiss of what sounds like a cat behind a dumpster. 
I walk over and peer around it.  “Gabby? Are you hurt? Say something!” I whisper-shout. 
Someone moves from within the shadow.  “Get out here, Gabby. We’ve got to go before Mar…” 
The light flickers again, for just a second. That second is all I need to see that the someone slowly stalking toward me is not Gabby.  
It’s a man…twice my size. 
“Who are you?” I ask, shuffling backward as the man cloaked in a black leather hood emerges from the shadows. The front of his jacket is open. Underneath, he's shirtless, covered in a sheen of sweat, and more tattoos than visible skin all the way up the front of his throat. His muscled chest and abs flex with each step he takes. The hood shadows most of his face, but when the lights flicker again, yellow eyes glow from within. 
And they’re locked on me. 
My ‘save your ass’ mode kicks in. 
The man is blocking the only exit. My only other chance of escape is to scale the same wall I used to drop into the alley. 
I keep moving backward as he approaches until my back hits the wall. I look left and right for something to use to climb on. 
There’s nothing but emptiness. 
My stomach sinks, but surrender is not an option. 
I swallow hard as the alarm bells scream in my head for me to run. Somewhere. Anywhere. 
There’s nowhere to go! 
My legs tremble. Fear crawls like a million spiders along the backs of my legs. I push myself further against the wall as if I can squish the feeling away, but it’s useless. 
Fear consumes me. Swallows me whole. 
He continues toward me. As he gets closer, I realize it’s not just sweat glistening on his skin. There’s something else splattered across the tattoos on his chest and on his stubbled jaw.  
It almost looks like wet paint. 
My breathing stops when he’s close enough that I can make out the tattoo on the front of his throat. 
A bleeding black rose. 
The symbol of the Bedlam Brotherhood. 
I’ve heard stories about Grim. The man in the hood. The executioner for Bedlam. They were all terrifying, but not nearly as terrifying as the reality of coming face to face with the man himself. 
“We didn’t do anything,” I blurt. “I mean, we did, but it wasn’t a big deal. I’ll…I’ll give the money back. Just tell your men not to hurt my friend. It was all my idea. Let her go, and you can take me.”  
“Who the fuck are you?” he asks. His voice is so thick and deep I feel it more than hear it. Shivers erupt all over my body. 
He raises his arm, revealing a long curved blade.
For the first time in my life, I can’t seem to be able to hide my fear with my wit or sarcasm. My throat tightens. I can’t swallow, never mind speak. I’ve lost my words completely, along with my nerve. 
The man’s blade drips red onto the pavement from the serrated tip. 
Every fear response I didn’t even know I had runs rampant. I’m holding my breath. My muscles tense as if running was still an option. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck prickle my skin as they stand on end. I raise up to my tip-toes and push back, trying to make myself disappear into the wall. 
I glance from the knife back to his chest, then back again. The splatters across his skin? 
It’s not fucking paint. 
Before I can process what the hell is happening, he switches from slow-stalking mode into hyper-speed, pinning my wrists above my head. His hard, bloodied chest pushes against me, smearing blood across my white tank top, forcing the back of my head to connect roughly with the wall.  
“I’ll only ask you this one more time. Who the fuck are you?” His low guttural growl rattles my bones. 
His unblinking, angry, golden eyes lock onto mine. Without the fluorescent light, they’re more golden brown than a glowing yellow. As much as I want to, I can’t look away. He could be the last person I ever see. 
The thought is just the spike of adrenaline I need. 
“Let me go,” I say, finally finding my words. I try and jerk my wrists from his grip with no luck. I’m trapped. My fear and anger rise to the surface, but I shove it back down. Fear won’t get me out of this situation, so it will have to wait for its damned turn. 
He digs his rough fingers into my skin. “Answer me. Who the fuck are you?” 
The bite of pain only makes me angrier. I throw his question back at him. “Who the fuck are you?”   
He glances down at my rapidly rising and falling chest before pinning me with his stare. The corner of his mouth tugs up in a half-smirk. 
“So much confidence for someone who's trembling,” he says with an amused glint shining in his demonic eyes. 
I shrug. “Maybe, I’m just not a fan of enclosed spaces,” I say through gritted teeth. 
“You didn’t answer me,” he says. 
“Why do you have blood all over you?” I answer him with yet another question. “You know, if you were committing some kind of crime back there, you should be more careful. I recommend a bleach bath and death by fire for your clothes the first chance you get. If it’s self-harm, I’m sure there’s a helpline you can call.”
He cocks his head to the side. His nostrils flare. His face is only inches away. I can feel the heat from his body against mine. His cool breath flutters against my neck. 
I’ve never been this close to a man before. My trembling grows. My inner thighs shake sending a rippling wave of something very unfamiliar coursing through the center my body.  I try and press my legs together to stop it from happening again, but when he uses his knee to wedge my legs apart, caging me in even further, it only grows, uncoiling from within like a slinky being pulled apart at the ends.  
I swallow hard as the stubble of his jaw presses against my neck. 
“Name,” he demands, his voice raspier than before. 
I shut my eyes tight for a beat, trying to gain composure, control, something that will help me as I try and reason my way out of this. “Listen, I didn’t see anything,” I blurt. “That is if you did anything. I’m not going to call the police if that’s what you're worried about. I wouldn’t anyway, even if I saw something, which I didn’t.” 
His brows knit together in a harsh line. “Why?” 
His question confuses me. 
“Why what?” 
“Why wouldn’t you tell the police?” 
Because Marco owns them. 
“Let’s just say that I haven’t exactly been a model citizen myself tonight. Let’s face it. If the police around here weren’t being paid not to do their jobs, half this town would be locked up.” I take a deep, shaky breath. “Especially people like us.”  
He stills. There’s no more talking. Only heavy breathing and a battle of wills. He releases one of my hands. I think he’s reaching for his knife. My blood turns cold. I can feel my face pale as my heart starts beating as faster and faster as if it wants to get in as many as possible before the end. 
I’m surprised when he doesn’t go for his knife. Instead, his hand travels slowly down my chest into my cleavage. 
“No, don’t!” I say, but it’s too late, he’s already yanked on my locket.
“Please just give it back, and let me go,” I plead. Feeling like it’s my real heart he's torn from my chest. “It’s the only thing in this world that means anything to me. Besides my best friend, it’s all I have.” 
I hate the desperation in my voice, but it’s the truth. 
He’s silent for a moment. He raises his arms. I flinch, raising my arms over my face defensively. But when nothing happens, I lower them, just in time to see him push back his hood, revealing his face.  
“Why?” I ask, closing my eyes knowing full well that the only time a criminal reveals himself to a witness is right before they take them out. 
“Look at me,” he demands, holding my face in his hand.  
“No!” I say, shutting my eyes tighter. 
“Look at me!” he bellows. He’s on me again. This time, he holds my head in his large rough hands. “Open your fucking eyes so you can see me.” 
With no other choice than to get my head squished like a turtle under a car tire, I do as he demands. Opening my eyes, I blink through the haze, and when it clears, I’m met with tousled, medium-length, light brown hair, slicked back on the top, shorn close to head on the sides. His nose is slightly crooked like it’s been broken a few times before. The stubble on his square, defined jaw is a few days over needing a shave. A jagged scar runs through his chin like an angry white lightning bolt. 
He’s the most fucking beautifully terrifying man I’ve ever seen. 
He’s searching my eyes for something, but I don’t know what. 
“Why?” I ask in a whisper.   
His hands release mine, but he doesn’t step back. He leans in closer, speaking against my cheek in a rumble of a whisper. The strange feeling from earlier comes back as a zap of electricity bouncing around my insides looking for somewhere to ground. 
I’m breathing heavy. Our lips are so close, almost touching. He slides one hand off my face, snaking it around my neck, pulling me closer. He starts to answer in a rumble of a whisper, causing goosebumps to rise on my already prickled skin. “Because I want you to see the face of the man who’s just—”    
“Where the fuck are you?” calls Gabby from the other side of the wall. “I lost them!” 
The moment, whatever it is, is now broken. The man releases me so suddenly I brace myself against the wall to keep from falling. I turn my head toward her voice. 
“Gabby!” I shout back. 
My heart is beating out of control. Out of habit, I raise my hand to my chest, seeking familiar comfort. 
I look up.  The man in the hood is gone. 
And so is my locket.

About the Author 
Kindle Crack Book Reviews

T.M. (Tracey Marie) Frazier never dreamed that a single person would ever read a word she wrote when she published her first book. Now, she is a five-time USA Today bestselling author and her books have been translated into numerous languages and published all around the world. 

T.M. enjoys writing what she calls sexy ‘wrongside of the tracks romance’ with morally corrupt anti-heroes and ballsy heroines. 

Her books have been described as raw, dark and gritty. Basically, what that means, is while some authors are great at describing a flower as it blooms, T.M. is better at describing it in the final stages of decay. 

She loves meeting her readers, but if you see her at an event please don’t pinch her because she's not ready to wake up from this amazing dream. 

Connect with T.M. Frazier 
Facebook: http://bit.ly/TMFRAZIERBOOKS 
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Thursday, August 30, 2018

SNEAK PEEK: Read an excerpt from Dirty Headlines by L.J. Shen

Kindle Crack Book Reviews Blog

Dirty Headlines, an all-new sexy, enemies-to-lovers romance from USA Today bestselling author L.J. Shen is coming September 7th and we have the first sneak peek! 

Synopsis:

Célian Laurent.
Manhattan royalty.
Notorious playboy.
Heir to a media empire.
…And my new boss.
I could have impressed him, if not for last month’s unforgettable one-night stand.
I left it with more than orgasms and a pleasant memory—namely, his wallet.
Now he’s staring me down like I’m the dirt under his Italian loafers, and I’m supposed to take it.
But the thing about being Judith “Jude” Humphry is I have nothing to lose.
Brooklyn girl.
Infamously quirky.
Heir to a stack of medical bills and a tattered couch.
When he looks at me from across the room, I see the glint in his eyes, and that makes us rivals.
He knows it.
So do I. 
Every day in the newsroom is a battle.
Every night in his bed, war.
But it’s my heart at stake, and I fear I’ll be raising the white flag.

Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2GuCKIB

Excerpt: 

He had an American accent. Not French. American.Smooth. Familiar. Ordinary. He fired out sentences at the speed of light. I heard him, but I couldn’t listen. Shock gripped my body as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. My dirty one-night stand was my boss. My lying, American boss. And now I had to deal with that—hopefully for a very long time, because I desperately needed this job.
Someone snapped their fingers, and my gaze shot from Célian’s face to Grayson. 
His forehead had crumpled into a frown. “You look like you’re trying hard not to cry or having a really intense orgasm. I’m hoping for you that it’s the latter and some kind of a weird-slash-awesome condition. You okay?”
I nodded, scraping up a smile. “Sorry. Zero orgasms happening under this dress. I just zoned out for a second.”Lies. I was about to orgasm just remembering how good Célianhad felt parting my thighs with his big, callused hands and dipping his tongue into my slit.
Then words stopped streaming down on everyone’s heads like a scalding shower, and I realized that indeed there was something worse than hearing Célianspeak in his perfect American English. And that was not hearing him speak at all. Because now the icicles were pointed at me like a cocked gun.
I glanced up to meet his gaze. He stared at me for exactly one second before his focus snapped to Grayson. “Am I understood, Gregory?” he asked.
Gregory?
“Crystal clear, sir,” Grayson bowed, his voice trembling at the edges.
Célian jerked his chin toward me. “Your cover girl material is going downhill.”
God. Damn. Bastard.
He recognized me, and I knew it. His eyes had kindled, melting the ice and growing darker the minute our gazes mingled. He remembered, and maybe it killed him that I was here in the same way it buried me.
I want my iPod back, my gaze told him. I had over three thousand songs on that thing, and they were all too good to be wasted on that jerk.
“Jude Humphry. Junior reporter. It’s her first day,” Grayson highlighted, almost pleadingly. He shifted in my direction, as if he might need to physically protect me from the sharp-tongued, suited monster.
I suppressed a smile when I realized I’d told Célianmy last name was Spears. Well, he certainly wasn’t a Timberlake. He was a Laurent. An American monarch through and through. A billionaire, a powerful force, and judging by our one and only encounter—a raging playboy. 
This man was inside you, I internally shrieked. And not just once. His cock was buried so deep in you, you screamed. You can still taste the salty, earthy flavor of his cum.You know he has a freckle on his lower back. You know what sound he makes when he empties inside a woman.
I internally thanked my mind for ruining my panties in public, and nodded. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.” I offered him my hand, my face flushing with embarrassment at my choice of words.
Everyone was looking at us, and there were at least fifty people in the room. Célian—if that was even his name—ignored my outreached hand. Instead, he turned his face to the man beside him. “Mathias, any other words of wisdom?”
Mathias? Wasn’t that his father? Just how cold was the man with the icy blue eyes?
“I think you touched everything,” said the big boss—and he did have a heavy French accent, so at least the lie had a seed. Mathias stared at me placidly, like he could read the secret his son and I shared on my face. 
Célian spun toward me, uncuffing his cufflinks and rolling his sleeves up his veiny forearms. “Accounting can go back to their unfortunate line of work. Couture is excused from this meeting—though not forgiven for their horrid blog. Miss Humphry?” He snapped his fingers impatiently. 
He was already waltzing down the narrow hallway, knowing I’d chase him like a puppy, and no doubt taking pleasure in that fact. 
“I have a bone to pick with you.” 
Bone, boner—same difference, right?
I shot Grayson a please-save-my-butt look. His eyes said, I would but I still have a life to live. 
I followed Célian down the hall, my Chucks slapping the floor in a hurry. He sliced through the throng of accountants, then stopped at a corner office, opened the door, barked “Out!” to the man inside, and tilted his head for me to go in. I did. He closed the door, and it was just the two of us. 
Two feet of empty space between us. 


About LJ Shen:

Kindle Crack Book Reviews Blog
L.J. Shen is an International #1 best-selling author of Contemporary Romance and New Adult novels. She lives in Northern California with her husband, young son and chubby cat.
Before she’d settled down, L.J. (who thinks referring to herself in the third person is really silly, by the way) traveled the world, and collected friends from all across the globe. Friends who’d be happy to report that she is a rubbish companion, always forgets people's’ birthdays and never sends Christmas cards.
She enjoys the simple things in life, like spending time with her family and friends, reading, HBO, Netflix and internet-stalking Stephen James. She reads between three to five books a week and firmly believes Crocs shoes and mullets should be outlawed.


Connect with L.J. Shen: 
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorljshen/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/lj_shen
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Stay up to date with L.J. Shen by signing up for her mailing list:

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